The return to real life. The part where we go our separate ways.
And what of Stripe and Shadow?
What if they don’t bond well with Wanda?
Do we just let them go, adopted out to strangers who’ll never know how Shadow likes her paw rubbed whenever she curls into the crook of my arm, or how Stripe perks up every time Knox walks into the room?
Or do we flip a coin? Heads Cami. Tails Knox. Winner keeps both? My spiraling thoughts may have a weak attempt at humor, but my heart doesn’t find any of it funny.
“It’ll all work out, I’m sure,” Millie says, topping off everyone’s wine.
Knox’s jaw ticks, and he takes a slow sip of wine, eyes fixed on his plate. Is his mind chasing the same thoughts as mine?
Elena eyes me over the rim of her glass. “So, Cami…can you tell us more about your big-girl city job?”
With a quick tuck of hair behind my ear, my tone stays casual. “Just an entry-level role my dad lined up. Something I can throw on a résumé. Get a little experience under the belt.”
Elena arches a brow. “Sounds mysterious. Government secrets? High-stakes fashion?”
I smirk. “Not nearly that exciting. Mostly emails and spreadsheets, I think.”
“Ah,” Margo says, stabbing a piece of steak, “so you’re saving the world, just with less couture and more Control Alt Z.”
“That’s the goal.”
Millie passes the butter when she eyes me snagging another roll. “Well, if they’ve got any sense, they’ll promote you in a month.”
“Thank you,” I say with a smile.
Elena tips her glass toward me. “And if the job was up to you, what would you be doing?”
I glance at her, then at Knox, who pretends not to be listening even though his wineglass stalls halfway to his lips.
Whatever I say can’t reveal too much; it’d burst our no-real-life rule and the fragile boundary that’s kept this separate.
“Something strategic and high-impact,” I offer. “I’ve spent years studying how big decisions ripple through companies and economies. So I suppose I’d eventually like a seat at the table where those decisions get made.”
All three ladies freeze, eyes wide, staring at me like a buffering screen.
“PhD in Economics,” Knox tells them, tipping his glass my way. “Not that she ever leads with that.”
The Trouble Triplets exchange one of those perfectly synchronized, wine-fueled glances only decades of friendship can produce.
“Well, shit,” Margo says. “I barely passed algebra.”
“They say smart and stunning is a dangerous combo,” Millie adds, raising her glass with a wink at Knox.
Elena grins, eyes on him. “Honey, blink twice if you’re already in too deep.”
A cool, briny breeze rolls in off the Sound, brushing across my bare shoulders as the sun dips lower, pink and tangerine stripes painting the sky.
Crickets strike up a twilight chorus from tall dune grass, joined by the rhythmic hush of waves.
Knox shifts beside me, his knee brushing mine beneath the table.
Our eyes meet. Calm. Certain. Impossibly close as he squeezes my thigh.
A shiver trails down my spine, his touch like a quiet claim.
